


Ewan and David, 16th July 1904

by helens78, kyuuketsukirui



Series: Sable Knot (Ewan) [4]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Don't Have to Know Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-16
Updated: 2004-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuuketsukirui/pseuds/kyuuketsukirui





	Ewan and David, 16th July 1904

It's nearly two now and Ewan's been pacing back and forth in the sitting room for over an hour. Just as he pushes the curtains aside to peek out the window yet again, he hears the loud blare of a horn. Snatching up the picnic he had Cook pack for tea, he dashes out the front door, grinning broadly.

When he gets to the car, he stops, not sure if he should hop in or wait for Wenham to ask him up. He shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Hullo."

"Hello," Wenham grins. "Thought you might like to hear the horn. I might've scared some of your servants with it," he teases. "Well, come on then."

There's a set of driving gloves and goggles on the seat beside him; he thinks they're about the right size for Ewan. "Brought you something," he adds, nodding down at them.

Ewan sets the picnic in the back seat and picks up the goggles and gloves. "Thanks." Grinning, he pulls the goggles on, mussing his neatly slicked back hair. He probably looks ridiculous. "Do they suit me?"

"They do indeed," Wenham says, reaching over to pet Ewan's hair back into place as best he can around the goggles. "I picked them out thinking they would." He gestures back to the gearshift and pedals and steering wheel, and says, "Keep an eye on everything while I get us somewhere where the roads are reasonably empty, and then it'll be your turn."

"I can't wait." Grinning at Wenham, Ewan pushes the goggles up on his forehead and pulls on the gloves. He holds his hands out in front of himself admiringly. The gloves fit well, but it's hot and he won't be driving for a while yet, so he tugs them off again and sets them down on the seat.

As they start off down the road, he says, "I brought a picnic."

"Did you? How thoughtful of you," Wenham grins. "I have enough petrol in the car to keep us out all afternoon, and a picnic would be excellent." _A picnic. Far out in the country. With no one around. Oh, this keeps getting better and better._

As they drive along, Wenham yells out things like _clutch!_ and _clutch-brake!_ and _shifting up!_ or _shifting down!_ He wonders how good Neeson's sense of timing is. And he's fully expecting to have jerks and starts and stops and hear a popped clutch several times as they go, but he's sure it'll be worth any wear on the car to see young Neeson's face when he's finally got the car going at a good clip.

Ewan is watching Wenham, not the road, so he's not expecting the car to swerve suddenly. The sudden movement throws him against Wenham, who's now cursing at something Ewan can't see. Twisting around in his seat, Ewan looks back to see a man on a bicycle wobble, obviously trying in vain to regain his balance, and then topple over in the street.

"Bloody hell, man!" Ewan shouts as the man gets to his feet, brushes himself off. "Have a care where you're going!"

"It's all right," Wenham yells, straightening the car out. "Idiot cyclists," he grumbles. "Think they ought to be allowed to pedal wherever they please." He shakes his head. It'll be much better when they're out of the town limits and he'll actually be able to get the car steady. Luckily for him and Neeson both, Wenham has excellent reflexes.

A few more close shaves with pedestrians and cyclists, and finally they're out on a long country road. There's been no rain of late, so the car doesn't have any difficulty on the dirt, and Wenham gets the car into second gear and simply leaves it there a while. Soon enough there's nothing around but greenery, Wenham having taken care to choose a less-well-traveled path, and when they're at a nice sizeable clearing, he pulls the car to a stop, grinning over at Ewan. "Think you're ready?" he asks, reaching out and sliding his hand onto Ewan's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Oh, yes!" Ewan says excitedly. He scrambles across Wenham as the man slides over to the passenger seat. Pulling the goggles down over his eyes, Ewan picks up the gloves, tugs them on, and grasps the steering wheel tightly. Right. He's read all about driving, and just now seen it done in person. No reason he should have any trouble .

Letting out a deep breath, he grins nervously at Wenham, who squeezes his shoulder again. Right. He mimics Wenham's steps and soon - after only a couple bangs and grinds - the car is moving, picking up speed. He spares another quick glance at Wenham and then concentrates on the road.

The boy's not bad. Not bad at all, although a mite overenthusiastic about the steering. Still, the wheel needs a firm grip, and being hesitant would only keep them from getting anywhere. Wenham slides his hand back to Ewan's shoulder -- it certainly didn't seem like he minded -- and squeezes as Ewan keeps making turns, giving him a pat on the back and rubbing between his shoulderblades when Ewan successfully downshifts to make a turn and then shifts back up without stalling out the car. "Good job," he says. "Your arms aren't getting tired?"

"Not at all!" Ewan hopes Wenham can't feel how tense he is; he hasn't made any huge mistakes so far, but he doesn't know how much longer he can keep that up. Despite the breeze, he's warm - hot, even - and the hand on his shoulder isn't helping any. In fact, he's grown more and more aware of it as they've gone along, making it harder to pay attention to his driving.

After a little while, he ventures, "I am feeling a bit peckish."

"Then let's pull over the next time we spot someplace likely. And you can show me whatever your cook packed up for us." Wenham squeezes Ewan's shoulder one more time and then lets go, looking at the road ahead to see if there's a wider area where they could park the car, preferably near a slightly-shaded part of field.

And there is; Wenham points it out. It's perfect. The road curves towards the field and there's a bit of a slope down to a spot with a few largeish bushes. It's not completely obscured from view, but it's close enough, and no one else seems to be out today anyway. Which is a shame, really, as it's beautiful out.

Ewan pulls over, and there's another odd, grinding sound when he does, but he's too excited to care. He shuts off the car and jumps out, whooping as he yanks off the goggles and tosses them in the air. "I did it!"

Now that the car's not moving, there's barely any breeze. Ewan pulls off his jacket, the gloves, tosses everything into a pile in the back seat and leans over, grinning up at Wenham. "It's jolly good of you taking me out like this."

Wenham runs leather-cased fingertips down the side of Ewan's cheek, grinning down at him indulgently. "It's my pleasure," he murmurs. "I'm so glad it pleases you this much."

The touch sends a rush of heat to Ewan's groin, and he turns quickly, steps up and grabs the picnic from the back. "I'll just set everything out, then," he says in a rush.

Cook's packed a blanket and everything. Ewan spreads it out a little ways from the road, in the shade of the bushes. It really is beastly hot today; he wonders if Wenham would mind if he took off his tie and waistcoat as well. It's only the two of them, after all.

_Hmm. I wonder if that was too obvious. Or if it was only too obvious because we were still in the car..._ Wenham follows Ewan down to the grassy patch and takes off his gloves as he goes, finally removing his driving goggles and dropping gloves and goggles into a pile at one corner of the blanket. He slips off his jacket and folds it before letting it fall to the ground, and then stretches out on his side, tilting his head back a bit to glare up toward the sun. "Beautiful weather," he observes, "if a bit over warm for my tastes."

"Frightfully so," Ewan agrees, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He spits on his hand, tries to slick it back again, but to no avail. Oh well. No one's here to see but Wenham anyway, and he doesn't seem the type to mind a little untidiness.

Kneeling next to the hamper, he begins setting out the food. There's wine, of course. Cold chicken, pate and bread, cheese, scones and cream, strawberries, and Ewan's favourite, petit fours. He pops one in his mouth as he uncorks the wine.

"Dessert first?" Wenham teases. "It looks wonderful." He's not looking at the food, though. The way Ewan's hair is falling over into his eyes is just making him want to reach out and...throw subtlety to the wind, apparently, which is exactly what he does. He slides Ewan's hair back away from his face and runs the pads of his fingertips down along Ewan's cheek. "I'm glad you were able to join me today," he murmurs.

"Me, too," Ewan breathes, and _oh, fuck, oh bloody fucking hell_, he can feel his cock hardening. His tongue flicks out over his bottom lip and he can't seem to look away.

_Caught._ It's the feeling a spider must have when a fly finally runs into her web, and Wenham grins, feeling rather predatory as he sits up and leans forward, closing the distance between his mouth and Ewan's. "I'm enjoying your company _very_ much," Wenham whispers, finally brushing his lips across Ewan's as he lets his words fade out.

Despite everything, Ewan's still surprised when Wenham actually kisses him. He leans in, responding eagerly, the open wine bottle in his hand forgotten.

The eagerness actually catches Wenham off-guard for a moment, but that doesn't last long. He kisses Ewan back, drawing his hand up to the back of Ewan's neck, holding him close and exploring Ewan's mouth with his tongue.

Ewan moans, free hand reaching up to grip Wenham's waistcoat. His erection must be obvious now - he can feel it pulling his trousers taut - but he's too wrapped up in the kiss to be embarrassed. His mind wanders to the various fantasies that have kept him occupied the past few nights and he moans again.

Wenham's own fantasies have been keeping him at a constant low level of distraction all week, but actually having Ewan's mouth open under his -- and that _moan_, oh yes -- is more invitation than he expected. He pushes forward, taking the wine out of Ewan's hand and setting it aside before curving a hand around the back of Ewan's neck and lowering him to the ground, stretching out beside him, running a hand down Ewan's body and resting it lightly on his hip.

Pressing close, Ewan grinds against Wenham, dangerously close to spending in his trousers already. Suddenly he can't imagine why he's spent all these weeks moping over Bloom; hand skimming over Wenham's side, he can't think of anyone who matters _less_.

The boy's greedy enough Wenham could probably make him beg. And it'd be beautiful to watch -- but no, there are enough slaves out there to drag that low, and this is someone who could actually be _useful_ given enough opportunity. The way Ewan's squirming under him feels good, and Wenham's sure he can make everything feel even better if he can just get under enough layers of clothing. He gathers up a handful of Ewan's shirt, tugging at the waistband until he can slide his fingers under the outer shirt. _Blast. Hell. Fashion is so inconvenient._

Breathing raggedly, Ewan reaches down to help, scrabbling at his trousers in frustration. Once they're undone, he shoves his smalls down, Wenham pushing his shirt and vest out of the way, and finally, _finally_, his cock is free.

"Easy, lad," Wenham teases, trailing a fingertip up the length of Ewan's cock. "We're not in a hurry, and no one's going to see." And then it's a dancing caress of fingertips, all the way back down to the base of his cock, touches so light they're barely brushing against skin.

That's all well and good for Wenham to say. "_I'm_ in a hurry!" Ewan moans, arching into the touch.

Wenham tries to keep a straight face, and just can't manage it. _Youth is wasted on the young,_ he thinks, grinning and crawling down the length of Ewan's body. "All right," he says, and he bends his head down, sliding it up Ewan's cock, finally taking the head of Ewan's cock in his mouth.

"Oh! Oh..." Gasping, Ewan lifts his hips, clutching at Wenham's shoulders as he tries to thrust into his mouth. Oh, this is perfect. Better than he'd imagined, even. "I'm...I..." He can't seem to get the words out; Wenham's tongue is pressing hard against his slit, robbing him of coherent thought. "Gonna..."

Somehow the fact that Ewan's this close doesn't surprise Wenham at all. It makes the corners of his mouth tilt up just the barest fraction as his lips tighten around Ewan's cock, and he sucks _hard_, drawing Ewan's cock further and further into his throat, tongue rubbing back and forth against the underside.

_Oh God..._ Wenham's so good and it seems to Ewan that it's been forever since he had anything but his own hand. He can't hold back any longer; it's impossible to even try. With a choked moan, he arches up, squeezing his eyes shut as he comes down Wenham's throat.

_How very young he is,_ Wenham thinks, drawing away, licking up the last drops of come from the slit. He glances up Ewan's body with a grin. _And how incredibly charming. And then there's his family..._ Being in Ewan's good graces could certainly prove useful.

But Wenham's own good graces are only going to go so far if he doesn't find some relief of his own. He crawls up beside Ewan again and reaches for Ewan's hand, pressing it over the fly of his trousers. "Enjoying your day out?" he murmurs, drawing fingertips along the side of Ewan's cheek.

"Very," Ewan says, still trying to catch his breath, "very much."

Now that he knows Wenham wants him - and there's the evidence of that right here, the hard bulge under Ewan's hand - that it's not just his wild fantasies, it makes him bold. He throws one leg over Wenham's hip, presses close. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Now _there's_ an offer it would take a saint to refuse, and Wenham's never so much as pretended to be a saint. "Absolutely," he says, grinning broadly. And the boy's not a virgin; he'd lay odds on it. "How do you like it?" he asks. God, the idea of this innocent young man being taken in different ways -- _there's nothing quite like corrupting the innocence of youth, is there?_

That gives Ewan pause; Orl- _Bloom_ had always just _done_ it with seemingly little thought to what Ewan may or may not have preferred. Not that he's picky. "However. It doesn't matter. On my back."

"I think we ought to get you out of a few more clothes," Wenham teases, getting a hand on Ewan's shoulder and rolling him over to his back, landing on top of him and bending his head down to tease at Ewan's lips with his own. "It's warm enough," he murmurs between kisses, "and I want to feel your bare calves over my thighs."

"Yes..." Ewan's already fumbling with his trousers, trying to answer and get them off and kiss Wenham all at once. "Yes. Oh God, yes."

One more kiss and he pushes Wenham away, finally gets his trousers down only to find he has yet to deal with his shoes. "Oh, rot!" And there's still shirt, tie, waistcoat, and vest. _Too bloody many clothes!_

Wenham doesn't even bother trying to hide the grin. And he's not even really laughing _at_ Ewan, just finding himself charmed by the lad's enthusiasm. _It really is rather like having a puppy at home for the first time,_ he thinks, sliding carefully out of his own clothes while watching Ewan struggling with his.

By the time Ewan's completely naked, clothes strewn about, he's also getting hard again. His hand slides down between his legs as he settles back on the blanket. Wenham is even more attractive naked in an altogether different way from Bloom. Not that he's thinking about Bloom now, really. Only for comparative purposes, and he's already decided that Wenham is far and away better in every regard. The motorcar doesn't hurt, either.

Wenham already has the vaseline out of his pocket, and he's got two fingers dipped into it, both of them at Ewan's arse as he braces himself on one hand, above him. _Ah, to be a teenager again._ He grins. "Damn, but you look good," he says, moving his fingers into Ewan, stretching him, flicking his tongue out over his lips -- _God, that's going to feel good. Tight boy._

Whimpering, Ewan draws his knees up higher, spreads his legs wider, doing everything he can to get _more_. He lets go of his cock and reaches up, splaying his hands out on Wenham's chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple.

The boy's so hot for it Wenham knows there's no need to wait anymore. He gives his cock one fast slick stroke, rubbing what's left of the Vaseline over it, and then starts working his way in, fast and deep. It's actually an effort not to be cruel; he'd love to see this willing young lad's expression go from eager whore to shocked hurt.

Ewan's eyes go wide as Wenham shoves in; it burns and there's not quite enough Vaseline to make it easy, but _God_, it feels so good. He wraps his legs around Wenham's waist, arms around his neck, clinging tightly, fingernails scraping over Wenham's upper back.

Wenham hisses at the scratch of fingernails, leaning down to nip at Ewan's lips. "Enthusiasm. Perfect," Wenham breathes. "Or has it just been a while since anyone's had you?"

An odd sound, somewhere between a giggle and a moan, escapes Ewan's lips. "Both... I..._ohh_!"

"There, that's it," Wenham breathes, "feels so good, you're so tight for me--" _Such a willing little whore. My, my, who knew Lord Longford raised such a fine slut?_ Wenham's fingers curl around Ewan's shoulders and he moves in faster, looking to derail what's left of Ewan's words.

Ewan works one hand between them, grasping his prick and pulling roughly. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open, each thrust jolting another moan out of him. He's close; he can feel it building in his belly, in the way his balls draw up tight against the base of his cock, and the next time Wenham slams into him it seems to push his orgasm right out in pulse after pulse of sticky fluid.

"_Yes,_" Wenham groans, and he digs his fingers into Ewan's shoulders _hard_, careless of the red marks he's leaving as he comes, shuddering on top of Ewan and shoving in hard one last time before letting his head fall forward onto Ewan's shoulder. He has to remind himself not to bite Ewan's chest, not to leave him bruised. _Well, not too bruised,_ he thinks, squeezing Ewan's shoulders one more time.

Sliding his legs out straight, Ewan closes his eyes, breathing shallowly. He runs his hand over Wenham's hair and down his back. "Oh... That was..."

"That was a very good way to spend an afternoon," David murmurs, rolling over to Ewan's side and brushing Ewan's hair off his forehead.

"It was." Ewan smiles. "Jolly good. Worked up an appetite, too."

"Well, how convenient," Wenham says, pushing up on his elbows and nodding at the blanket with a grin, "we've got lunch on hand."

"That we have." Grinning, Ewan gets to his feet and stretches, arms up above his head as if he's trying to touch the sky. "Too bad there's no lake or river around here. I should like to go swimming right now."

"I should like to watch that," Wenham mutters to himself, rolling his neck back on his shoulders and then digging into the pocket of his trousers for a handkerchief so he can clean up. He's also starting to wonder if Ewan ever runs out of energy, and if he himself was this chipper at Ewan's age. Somehow he doubts it.

"I s'pose I ought to get dressed," Ewan sighs; it feels good to be out of his clothes, sweat drying in the breeze. "Someone might come by." He grabs a napkin from the hamper and starts scrubbing himself clean.

"Probably a good idea," Wenham agrees, starting to work his way back into his clothes. It's already a good deal less comfortable, but one can only lounge about naked in a field for so long, he supposes. "I wonder," he says, grinning over at Ewan, "do you always have that sort of reaction to men who take you out in motorcars?"

Ewan pulls on his smalls and his socks and then drops down to his knees next to Wenham, one hand on his shoulder. Grinning, he leans in, presses his lips to Wenham's jaw, just below his ear, and whispers, "I don't know. You're the first who's taken me out in one."

Wenham chuckles, shaking his head. "Sooner or later Lord Longford will get you one of your own and then you'll have no use at all for an old man like me." He leans forward and nips at Ewan's neck. "And until then -- perhaps you'll let me know if you want another...ride?"

Sitting back on his heels, Ewan grins again. "I'd love that."


End file.
